Death, Too, Was Put to Use

"What is this...?" The instant Wen Ye took the Cold Mountain Grass leaf, he sensed something extraordinary about it.

A cool, soothing breath seemed to pierce straight into his brow, sending a shudder through his entire body.

Even his mind, slowed somewhat by more than a century of age, sprang back to life like a withered tree meeting spring, its thoughts clear and lively once more. "This is far too precious." As Wen Ye spoke, he took out an exquisite wooden box and tucked the leaf close to his body with the utmost care.

Fang Han added instructions for using the Cold Mountain Grass leaf: "If something urgent happens, burn it. Once I sense it, I'll come as quickly as I can." He then changed the subject. "May I ask, Mr. Wen, how many grandmasters are there in the world today? And how many cultivate by gathering qi, as you do?"

"According to the Martial Arts Association's old records, around a hundred and thirty-three grandmasters are still alive today. Of those, no more than three in ten have been fortunate enough to receive Heaven and Earth's bounty and cultivate by gathering spiritual energy. Of course, those figures are years out of date. I've lived in seclusion for a long time and haven't dealt with the Martial Arts Association in years."

Wen Ye pondered for a moment before answering frankly. "If you count the old monsters who never show themselves, the true number is probably much higher."

"There are that many?" Fang Han was surprised.

From what this body had previously known, warriors who could transcend the innate threshold and attain the rank of grandmaster were as rare as phoenix feathers and qilin horns. He had never imagined that this Martial World held well over a hundred grandmasters.

"Entering the innate